It's an old sob story, but people have probably been lamenting "the death" of NYC's character since they were still calling it New Amsterdam. It's also an old cop-out to quote the withering observation that change is the only constant in the urban environment. New York City changes. That's just what it does. But we don't have to like it, especially when there's seemingly precious fuck-all we can do about it.
It wasn't my original intention for this blog to be so largely about the cultural erosion of my home town. It just kinda worked out that way. I'm often left wondering if it's an unhealthy pursuit for me. To be so occupied with virtually constant ruminations about the past can't be a good thing. If I'm spending all my time looking backward, aren't I going to miss something coming right toward me?
I'm in good company, though. In the almost-seven years (damn!) that I've been writing here on Flaming Pablum, I've gotten to know a few like-minded bloggers who similarly document their own observations about the changing New York and what it means to them. Today, two of my favorites posted strangely synchronized entries about the indelible transformations of their respective favorite neighborhoods (I'm talking about EV Grieve's East Village and Jeremiah Moss' Meatpacking District). Both pieces struck me as very sad, and hinted at a new sense of futility that I'm not sure I've really noticed before.
I don't have a big answer or punch-line here, just a sad shrug.
Photo at the top courtesy of this blog.
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